Beautiful Bounty (The Bounty Hunters: The Marino Bros. Book 1) (4 page)

As if reading her mind when the guard and Wanda began to pass, she threw out over her shoulder, “Courtroom’s pretty full, Blondie, and I heard the newsies talking. Big story, lots of press, college graduate, drug smuggler. Good luck.”

And with her words fading, echoing down the corridor, the metal box squawked.  “The State of Florida vs. Veronica Louise Sears.” She was up.  The nightmare was almost over, or had it just begun?

As Ronnie walked into the crowded Courtroom and turned right, she immediately saw the galley was packed with paparazzi. Her public defender nodded at the seat next to him.  She approached, but the quiet in the large room really surprised her considering the crowd.  She saw a few flashes and pictures were quickly snapped as she made her way to her seat. When the barrage of flashes stilled, it took a moment for her to make out her mom and Jay sitting behind her attorney. Ana and Monica, her mom’s closest friends, were sitting next to her for moral support.  She loved those women, Ana like a second mom and Monica like an older sister.  She gave them a tentative smile, and waved with her hands clasped together as best she could, the handcuffs jangling from her wrists.

Lou smiled and nodded, Jay winked, and both the woman gave her supportive looks.

She turned to the front of the room as the bailiff asked for all the attendees to rise for the Honorable James A. Hitchcock. A tall distinguished black man, probably in his mid-sixties emerged from his chambers by a door in the paneled wall that opened right behind the raised bench before her.  He stood for a moment gazing out at the crowd and a hush fell as he silenced those who were still murmuring with a fierce look of consternation.  There was a soft click from the paneled door as it shut.  Then he sat. Order was called, they were told they could all sit except for the defendant and the attorneys. The judge was introduced again to be recorded by the stenographer, and the case number read.  The attorney for the state and public defender were named and then called to the bench.

Ronnie remained standing, nervous, and unable to hear what the judge was saying to the lawyers or their responses despite the quiet in the room. The judge looked to her, when her public defender finished speaking, eyes narrowing.

His eyes remained fastened on hers, while her attorney returned to her side. When he and the prosecutor were once again facing the court, the judge began to speak.

“The case of The State of Florida vs. Veronica Louise Sears, case number 4733640, is now in session for the initial hearing.  The accused is present?” Ronnie heard the court reporter, keys tapping softly below the judge’s bench, and then saw her suddenly look at her.

Her attorney told her in a whisper to say yes.

“Yes,” she whispered. It came out a croak, her throat being as dry as the desert. Stoic, and polite, she recalled, and added a “Sir,” despite the sandpaper sound of her raspy voice. The judge’s eyes narrowed further not leaving her face. He nodded, and looked down at the papers before him.

Ronnie remained standing, her eyes never straying far from the judge.

He glanced away from his papers, looked towards the windows facing the street, and then suddenly his eyes were piercing her own, brown and glittering hard like chocolate diamonds.  While his eyes never wavered from hers, he asked the prosecutor to name the charges. He watched her for any possible reaction as charge after charge was read to the full court room.

The young attorney sitting across the aisle from her read the charges forcefully, punctuating each charge from felonies down to misdemeanors.  He listed the drugs, their quantities, the method of transportation, the intents behind the amount according to state statutes, and Ronnie’s brain swam with all the charges being filed against her. Her eyes became glazed as tears threatened to spill. She squeezed them closed tightly to stop them from rolling down her face, but one lone tear escaped, streaking down her cheek as it rolled quickly down to her chin. She swiped it away, her handcuffs rattling in the now quiet.

“How do you plead to these charges?” the judge asked, sounding bored.

She cleared her throat, licked her dry lips.  Stoic, Polite.  “Not guilty, Your Honor.”  Her voice came out clear, and firm, stronger than she felt.  She was glad for the note of confidence that seemed to come through this time, but couldn’t help but hear the sniffling behind her, her mom, and Jay shushing her.  She turned and gave her mom a confidant smile.

“Eyes up here, young lady,” the judge chastised, and she turned quickly back to the bench.  “This is only a hearing, but I want you to realize the seriousness of those charges, and the possible outcomes if found guilty.”

She nodded, and he continued in his firm tone, with a slightly pronounced southern accent.  “You are looking at a minimum of ten years, and possibly up to twenty-five. You understand the seriousness of these charges?”

“I do, Sir.”  He nodded, and looked to the public defender.

“You are asking for bail?”

“Yes,” her attorney replied.  When the judge waited for him to say more and he said nothing, the Judge gave him an odd look, shook his head, and then his grey head swiveled to the prosecution’s side.

“Arguments.”

The prosecutor spoke up.  “High bail. She is a flight risk.  She lives in another state, although her Mother resides here. The investigation is ongoing and considering the amount of drugs, others may be involved, your Honor.”

The judge turned to her attorney, who was looking out the windows, and the judge hearing no objection, shook his head again. He obviously disapproved of her attorney’s lackadaisical behavior, but did not comment on it. His disgusted measured glances spoke volumes even though her attorney appeared not to notice.

He cleared his throat.  “The eighth amendment requires bail be set in most cases in which there is no risk to the public.  I think drug dealers are a public risk.” He enunciated drug dealer, punctuating each syllable.  Her jaw, which dropped at her own attorney’s inattentiveness, just snapped closed, and she focused on the judge’s words. She nodded, showing her understanding. Hell, she even agreed. She remained mute, knowing that judges didn’t appreciate being interrupted, and that defendants should only speak when asked directly.  The judge nodded at her.  “But, the eighth amendment also clearly states that bail needs to be granted in order for the accused to be able to help in their own defense, and it also states it shall be set in accordance with the financial situation of the accused, it must not be set so out of reach, that you do not have the opportunity to work with your attorneys to gather the information you need to defend yourself which is difficult to do while in prison.”

She nodded. This sounded good. Hopeful. But his next words dashed that hope. Squashing the reprieve he had set her up for.

“But I also agree with the prosecution, and think you pose a flight risk.  You live in another state and may have friends and family there who will harbor you.  And, you brought drugs into my State.  The amount of drugs you have been accused of bringing into the country could have posed a serious risk to the public at large if they had been put out on the street.  With that in mind, bail is set at 250,000.”

The courtroom gasped. Cameras began to snap to capture her reaction.  The judge rapped his gavel once and the crowd began to quiet. Ronnie felt like she was going to throw up. A quarter of a million dollars. There was no way her mom could come up with that much money. Impossible. She nearly fell, and swayed, and she felt Jay’s hands grip her from behind, and hold her up. She regained her step, her balance, as a guard approached Jay, and he removed his hands quickly knowing she could stand on her own.  She heard Ana say, “Don’t worry baby girl, we’ve got this.”

“Yes,” Monica chimed in.

The tears were filling her eyes. They were going to help as well.  She had a chance.  But a quarter of a million dollars? She felt faint.  Her attorney was speaking, saying something about her having to go with the guard until bail was made. Her mind was on her mother’s friends and the fact she didn’t know how they were going to raise that much money. She owed them all so much. She turned to smile at them to show her appreciation. She didn’t know how she would pay them back, but she would.

The peril of the situation she was in was not lost on Ronnie. Her mind was doing the math. Despite the quarter of a million dollar bond the judge ordered, she knew that between her mom, Ana, and Monica they would be able to come up with the money, but it wasn’t going to be easy by any means. Ana was a Ph.D., and although she worked for the state, she made a good salary and had a lovely home she put a lot of money into. Monica too, was a high school teacher, but lived modestly, and between her husband and herself they did well. Her mom, on the other hand, didn’t have much, but she had a house, and Jay was an airplane mechanic.

But still, knowing the sacrifices they would all have to make for her, it humbled her. Tears were beginning to form again. She would prove her innocence and the bond would be returned. She would ensure that. She would have her day in court, and somehow, everything would all work out, she prayed.

She forced her mind to focus. The judge was speaking again, explaining how to pay the bond, and explaining the terms of her release if the bond could be raised.

Whispering behind her distracted her.  It was Monica. “How much will you need?”

The voice that answered turned Ronnie’s blood to ice. “My brothers and I agreed, we would take 10%, so 25,000 thousand dollars. We would also need the title to Lou’s house.”

Ronnie’s head, of its own volition, turned to the sound of the husky voice she recognized. Nikko! Oh my God! She hadn’t even noticed him sitting next to Monica. His eyes met hers and the blue glittered hard. The smile he gave her was just as dazzling as she remembered, but it was forced. The dimples in evidence. She swiveled back to the judge, as he called forcefully to her to give her his attention.

“Do you understand the terms of your release, Miss Sears?” he commanded.

She hadn’t heard a thing. Her mind was a whirl. She nodded blankly.

The judge nodded at the bailiff who called for all to rise, and her guard, the deputy who escorted her in, began to approach.

She heard Ana. “Here is a check, Nikko. When will you have her out?”

“In an hour, or two, maybe four. It just depends on how many are being processed today. You never know. I’ll handle the paperwork, no sense you all waiting around. Plus,” he whispered softly to just Ana and Monica, “Mrs. Russell doesn’t look well. But, I’ll need the title for the house? Does she have it?”

“I have it,” Ana stated.  “I also brought my checkbook.”

“Great. Then you all shouldn’t wait here.  As I said, it may take a while,” he muttered.  “I’ll call when I have her out, and I can even drive her home. I’ll have paperwork to file with the county where she’ll be residing.”

Ana was whispering Nikko’s instructions to Jay and heard his firm agreement. He turned to Lou who tried to resist the orders to go home her new husband was giving.

***

Her mind was numb. Her mom’s house! Nikko’s confident voice giving them all directions.  Her heart was racing. His was a face she thought she would never have to see again. Mortification set in, and not just because of her current situation, even though that should be enough.

The bailiff announced as the judge left that there would be a short recess before the next hearing. As Ronnie turned in the direction of the door she had entered from, photographers began to snap pictures again, and the flashes temporarily blinded her. She gave her mom, Jay, Ana, and Monica a smile.

“A few hours, baby,” her mom whispered through her tears. Ronnie nodded, and caught Nikko’s smirk.

He added, “Yes, I’ll get you . . . out.” His eyes barely hinted at the significance of the slight pause. She saw humor there too, eyes crinkling in his tanned and sharply angled face before she turned and was lead through the door.

Just before the door closed she heard Nikko again. “I’ll drive her home. Lou, Mrs. Russell, you look exhausted. Take her home, Jay,” he directed, “and as soon as I get all the paperwork done, we will be on our way.”

“Thank you,” she heard her mom murmur, and then there was the silence of the long hallway that would lead her under the street and back to her cell with nothing but time, until Nikko came for her.

***

The wait was longer than she expected and she was able to grab a quick shower. But, she passed on lunch thinking she’d be released soon. The congealed turkey on a slice of white bread with a scoop of cold mashed potatoes did not look appetizing at all. When the guard came to take her tray, she began to worry, but it wasn’t for long. Her stomach growled and she began to regret her decision, but just then another guard finally arrived to tell her she made bail. She was immediately brought to a holding room. An officer, framed in a small window called her forward, handed her a large manila envelope, and told her to examine the contents and sign.  The envelope contained her personal belongings from the afternoon of her arrest.